Don't Fanfiction Read Inside
by KoffeeWrites
Summary: (Do you get it? hehe) These are a bunch of my one shots and drabbles from The Walking Dead. Most of them are Daryl Dixon, if not all of them! Enjoy!
1. Cheers

Cheers

 _Prompt: "No, I said we were safer. Not safe." "Little girl, you can't handle my choice."_

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Daryl Dixon x Reader

900ish words

No warnings that I see

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Daryl races down the road and pulls you into a building that looks like it might be a good hiding place from the people running after the two of you. There was a tiny hole in the side, just big enough for you and Daryl to crawl through. He goes first, scouting the area before you crawl in after him.

He has his back to you, those angel wings on his back having much more meaning after the man pulled you from that hole in the ground and ran off with you, trying to hide you from the gang outside.

It was all so quick, you hardly remember a thing. One minute you were stuck in a hole dug in the ground, the next, you had this country boy pulling you out and telling you to call him Daryl. Names were never important to people anymore, causing you to trust him just a bit more than usual.

"It's safer in here." He grunts and pushes a shelf to the right of the hole so that it covers the entrance and (hopefully) drives the other men away.

With a look around, you realize you're in a bar. There are chairs and tables broken all over the place and a pool table in the corner, looking as though it was being used as a bed at some point.

"Want a drink?" Daryl asks as he saunters over behind the counter. You hear him clinking glasses as he looks for something drinkable.

You had to admit, drinking was a luxury you never had the privilege to try. When the Walkers started popping up in your town, you were just under the legal drinking age, and hardly had you ever tasted alcohol before then.

But there was no way in hell you were going to admit that to Daryl. You may have only known him a short time, you knew he would probably have something to say about that.

"What's your poison of choice?" You step over to the bar and find the one stool that wasn't broken into pieces. You slid onto it, leaning against the counter for support.

A dark chuckle passed Daryl's lips. " **Little girl, you can't handle my choice.** Here," he pours a glass of wine into a glass he just carefully cleaned with his bandana and hands it to you. "Start here."

Wanting to argue, you open your mouth, only to close it and take the glass from him. Arguing wasn't going to work, so you take a tiny sip of the wine and let the liquid glide down your throat.

It didn't burn like you thought it would. It was rather sweet and savoury. You swish it around for a moment and swallow a second time. This time, the alcohol hit the back of your throat and you blink a few times before it passed.

Daryl was too busy taking a long swig of a bottle of rum he found. He pulls the bottle from his lips and shakes his shaggy hair about. "That hit the spot." He smacks his lips and sets down an empty bottle. "Cheers." He clinks your glass with his empty one and searches for something else.

"How long are we going to be here?" You question as you take another sip of your wine. You assume overnight, glancing over at the pool table again to see if possibly the two of you could lay comfortably.

Daryl growls something before he sits up again, this time with a bottle of Budweiser, pressing the glass to his lips before he continues. "Not long. Could find us before the night's over with."

You look over at him and blink a few more times before it hits you. "You said it was safe!" You try to remind him, knowing that's exactly what he told you.

" **No, little girl. I said it was safer, not safe**." He grunts. "We're never safe."

Trusting Daryl Dixon was a huge step for you. After all of the shit that you had been through after the virus appeared, you found it hard to trust anybody. It was all too scary for you, all too real to the point you were starting to doubt that you wanted to live.

He promised you, though. He swore he was going to protect you. Maybe not with words, but with his actions. Daryl was so cautious around you, making sure you were well fed before he found food for himself, giving you the makeshift beds first so you were well rested for the journey. There wasn't anything Daryl wouldn't have done for you.

You decided then and there, the moment Daryl said those words, that you needed to help out more. He was completely right; you would never be safe again. With Daryl's help, you would be safer from the Walkers and the humans, but you hardly knew how to shoot a gun.

"Will you teach me?" The words fall from your mouth before you can stop them.

Daryl pauses and looks over at you, an eyebrow raised. "Wha?"

"To shoot. To protect us." You look at him, gazing up into his eyes as he processes what you asked of him. He may say no, and you could live with that for now, but it had to happen.

With a small nod, Daryl says, "Okay."


	2. Bad Things

Bad Things

 _Daryl doesn't want to tell you that he was once a truck driver._

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Daryl Dixon x Reader

691 Words

No warnings

"Why won't you tell me?" You ask as you sit beside Daryl at the bench.

It's a nice day at the prison. With most of the Walkers gone from the fences, most of the group can relax and take a breather for a day or two, until they decide to come back, which you all knew would happen soon.

Daryl, however, is not one for rest. He's normally found working on an engine somewhere or out tracking supplies down. You hardly ever see him just sitting on a bench outside, enjoying the warm air. Though Daryl isn't just sitting here, he's planning.

Daryl glances at you and sets his crossbow beside him on the seat. His bottom lip disappears between his teeth and he huffs. "'Cause."

You roll your eyes and pick up one of the arrows Daryl was making previously. "You'll have to tell me some time, you know."

"Don't matter." Daryl looks at you, his beady eyes never looking into yours. That was Daryl for as long as you knew him.

Growing impatient, you groan and put the arrow back on the table. "Daryl, we have known each other for months now. Possibly close to a year, and I think I have told you every single thing I did before the Walkers started. Just give me a hint, let me guess." You plead.

Daryl's fingers trace his chin as he looks passed you, out to the garden Rick, Hershel, and Carl were fixing up. Daryl helps when he can, but farming isn't his strong suit. "No."

"Daryl!" You let the whine escape your lips, causing Daryl to turn his head and look at you again, still playing with his beard. "Why is it so secretive?"

For a second, you think he may get up and storm off like he did when something didn't go his way. But Daryl merely throws his shoulders back and clears his throat, looking down at the table and the arrow he needs to finish. "Did some bad things."

"We all have. Besides, you're a different man now." You try to coax him.

Daryl raises his gaze to you, his mouth twitching as he tries to think of what to say. He is always a very quiet one, never talking unless he has a reason. Even then, it's rare. It's a shame, because you love to hear the man talk. "Really bad things." He growls.

You shrug your shoulder. "So you led a real tough biker gang? Maybe worked at a body shop on the side?"

Daryl shakes his head and lets more greasy hair fall into his face.

"Kay." You tap your long, slender finger against your parted lips as you think. Everyone loves to guess at what Daryl may have done before everything went to shit. It was especially popular with the kids, who always had the best ideas. You, on the other hand, had none. "A firefighter?"

Daryl raises his eyebrow at you. "A damn firefighter?"

"I don't know." You whine again. "I promise I won't tell anyone else. Please? You love me."

At the word 'love', Daryl's face turns a bright shade of pink. He looks down at the table again and his voice seems even lower, more gravel to it than normal. "Drove a truck…"

You blink and stare at the man, not entirely believing him, but at the same time, it makes sense. "This is what you didn't want to tell me?"

"Told ya, I did some bad things."

You smile and shake your head a little. You can't help but feel a little warm inside, a little triumphant. "It's not going to make me think of you any less, Daryl. You're still my brave redneck." You tease him.

His head shoots up in surprise, his eyes lifting to stop on yours for the first time in weeks, and his mouth was gaping open.

"Yes you." You stand up and walk over behind the man. You throw your arms around his neck from behind and hold him close.

He silently reaches one of his hands up and lays it across your hands, thanking you in his own precious way.


End file.
